smut
by thelastcigarette
Summary: Yet another meeting between the greatest detective of all time, Sherlock, and the Napoleon of crime, Moriarty. A lot of kink in this one.


He opened his eyes.  
"I see you're awake." said a voice, clearly through a smile.  
Sherlock could barely feel his body. Numb as a stone. He tried to move his fingers and heard the sound of a chain, suddenly feeling the cold metal grip of a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.  
"Don't worry." Moriarty's reply echoed in the dark room. "It's all in good fun."  
His ever flunctuating voice was so playfully sweet.  
Suddenly the ceiling lamps blinked and lit the room in a bright white that blinded Sherlock for a moment. When he opened his eyes, he saw Moriarty kneeling right in front of him, his animal eyes looking into those of Sherlock.  
"We meet again" Sherlock states in a low husky growl, but his act was ruined by the sincere smile that grew upon his lips.  
"That is a clever deduction" Moriarty grinned and reached his hands right above Sherlock's head, unlocking the cuffs. "How are you tonight, love?"  
"I'm good." Sherlock smiled. "I've been waiting for this for more than a week now. What have you been up to?"  
"Doesn't matter." he smiled, showing white teeth behind thin lips. "I've missed you" whispered he.  
"I've missed you, too. I would kiss you, but, unfortunately, you've drugged me. Once again."  
"Oops." he grinned playfully. "You know I like my victims _helpless_."  
"I know."  
Moriarty got closer and leaned in. His soft lips touched Sherlock's and he smiled. Tongue twirling and eyes closing in ecstasy, he giggled in the detective's mouth and hummed a broken tune.  
Sherlock pulled away, starting to feel the blood rushing through his veins; he could move, the drug was being washed away slowly.  
"No." he growled. "Tonight I am going to be in control."  
Moriarty stood up - a way of showing that, in fact, his thoughts weren't matching Sherlock's - but in a way he knew things aren't going to go as he had planned.  
Sherlock kissed his lips hungrily, his hands finding their way to Moriarty's jeans and undoing the zipper with fierce, feral movements. Moriarty smiled between the dance of their lips.  
"I see someone's gonna be wild tonight"  
Sherlock's breathing was quick and ridgid, he gasped in between kisses, he bit Moriarty's lower lip, made animal noises. Something was different.  
The detective pushed him backwards, shoved him against the wall. His tongue darted out and into his mouth, his body trembling with anticipation.  
"Sherlock?" he said huskily.  
"Mhm?"  
"Fuck me." The words lingered in the air, lust dripping from them, his voice like liquid sex.  
Sherlock pulled his head away to look into his eyes.  
"You heard me" Moriarty's voice was a low raspy whisper now, driving Sherlock out of his mind. "Fuck me. Right now, right here. Up against the wall, just the way you like it. Turn me around, bend me over, make me _scream _your fucking name. Make me beg, detective."  
That was it for Sherlock - he didn't mind following those orders. He gave the criminal one last hungry kiss, then grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around in a rough, aggressive manner.  
"Ooh. I like that" said Moriarty in that mocking tone that turned Sherlock on even more.  
"Shut the fuck up" he commanded through gritted teeth and pushed his erection against Moriarty's back. He moaned loudly at that and moments later they were rubbing up against each other shamelessly. Sherlock put his and around the criminal's body and grabbed his erection in his hand, squeezing gently just to tease him.  
Warm chills were running up and down Moriarty's spine, driving him closer to the edge. He was moaning so loudly that it was literally painful for Sherlock to not be inside of him already, but they both knew that teasing just adds to the thrill; pushes up the adrenaline until they can't handle it anymore, and then they just succumb.  
But they also knew it wouldn't be long; Sherlock groaned and, after one last rub up against his back, he pushed down Moriarty's pants, licked one finger and put it at his opening as a tease.  
Moriarty felt the light touch of his finger and trembled a little, the force of his feelings overwhelming him so goddamn much.  
"Don't play around too much, Sherlock. Don't make Daddy wait."  
"You can't have enough fun when it comes to these things, and remember: great things come to those who wait." was his answer.  
Sherlock pushed his finger in gently, enjoying the sounds Moriarty was emitting. They were moans of pure pleasure, uncontrolled and untamed. He tried to continue with his dirty talk, but it all went into incoherent jumble once Sherlock inserted three more fingers at once.  
"God. Fuck, Sherlock."  
"Come on. Say it. I know you want to say it." Sherlock said over and over again in his ear, his body pressed up against Moriarty's. He had one hand working inside of him, and the other was in his hair, in that messy black hair that had a sweet scent to it.  
"Y-You're a fucking God. Ugh- I can't."  
"Tell me the magic words" Sherlock teased, curling his fingers, hitting his prostate hard once.  
"Fuck me. Get your fucking cock out and rip me apart, Mr. Holmes."  
He would never admit it, but Sherlock was impressed with the words and phrases the criminal used during sex. Flattered, even. And it made his erection even harder, if it was at all possible.  
"Make me cum, Sherlock. Make me scream. Move fast inside me. Use me. Use me like a fucking slut."  
"I will, don't you worry." He grinned and took his fingers out, leaving Moriarty shaking.  
Without even using lube - because he knew how much Jim loved the pain - he entered him, his whole length in one go.  
Moriarty was screaming, and it turned Sherlock on even more. The detective paused inside him, his whole shaft fully in, feeling the muscles clench and tighten. He closed his eyes; being inside of Moriarty was like being on drugs, even better. His mind was racing, and everything was so clear, so sharp, so _real_. All the feelings were rushing from his brain to his limbs, his blood was racing, his heart was beating faster than ever.  
"Fuck, Sherlock. Move, goddamn it."  
Sherlock snapped out of the short moment of ecstasy and moved out slowly, in an agonizing manner that drove Moriarty _insane_. Then he adjusted his hips and slammed back inside, his balls hitting Moriarty's cold skin with a strange, yet natural sound.  
Jim had screamed again and Sherlock was not in control of his body anymore. He started moving quickly and rigidly, his hips rocking back and forth, not giving Moriarty enough time to adjust, so the criminal was trying to get into the fast rhythm, not being able to familiarize himself with the uneven quick pace.  
Sherlock was dominating. He shut his eyes, letting go of everything, of every sane thought in his mind, he let the logic go, let all of those clever things go, and he just _felt _the friction, the physics, the chemistry. He was holding Moriarty's hands up above his head, pinned on the wall, and was forcing himself dry into him, trying to find his prostate again.  
He finally hit his sweet spot; Jim moaned and that woke Sherlock up. He gave the criminal some time to adjust by pausing and giving him a second.  
"Don't stop" he begged. It was obvious that he was in pain; the feeling had gave him goosebumps all over, but he liked that; he liked agony and pain and facing all of these things all at once.  
Sherlock smiled, kissed his neck, whispered loving words in his ear and continued with his frenzy. Jim had picked up the pace and they were now moving like one, it was a beautiful composition of _feelings_, a melody of their ecstasy. They were so fascinatingly perfectly broken that the world didn't even matter anymore.  
"Fuck, Sherlock. I think- I think I'm-"  
He fell in silence and squeezed his eyes shut. A powerful wave of emotion and electricity went through his body and he came with a shudder. Sherlock wasn't there yet, though, he was just getting started.  
He pounded so hard into Jim's now weak body; Moriarty turned his head slightly, just to look into his eyes, and Sherlock had the most apologetic look on his face, but he just kept slamming and hitting and _feeling_.  
"It's okay. Continue." Jim encouraged him despite the pain that was no longer mixed with pleasure.  
Sherlock screamed something, but continued to slam back and forth, harder with each thrust.  
"Jim" he kept on whispering. "Jim. I'm sorry. Fuck. Uh-Talk to me. Fucking talk to me. I can't fucking stop so please fucking tell me something."  
Jim Moriarty smiled with his most mocking smile and started moaning loudly, like a whore getting banged for money.  
"Fuck me, Sherlock. Fuck my brains out. See how you made me scream? Do that again. Hurt me. Hit me, slap my face if you want to. You can do anything you like, 'cause I'm your fucking slut."  
He couldn't see it yet, but Jim was starting to get into it again, his hips moving backwards to meet Sherlock's thrusts; his erection starting to grow again.  
"Ugh- That's right, Jim. Don't stop."  
"If you can make me come again in two minutes, I'm gonna give you a blow job, and I'm gonna give you one every time we have a meeting like this one. It's gonna be the best fucking blow job of your life. I'm talking deep throat and everything. Just imagine that, honey. Get that image in your head; you, cumming in my face, in my mouth, down my throat. Mouth-fucking me like a fucking whore."  
"That's it. You've got yourself a deal." Sherlock managed to blurt out, before he grabbed Jim's erection and started stroking it, while hitting his prostate hard and quick. As the detective finally came inside him, Jim came too, feeling the semen pouring inside and out of him at the same time.  
His knees felt weak, they were trembling, and both men fell to the ground, exhausted.  
"... we are definitely doing this again." Jim said breathlessly.  
"And don't you forget our deal, Mr. Moriarty."


End file.
